And he didn't have the time. Footsteps and female laughter heralded the approach of Miss Willory and at least two other women.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l." He threw open the nearby door to the music room, grabbed Mr. Potsbottom under the arms, hauled him up, and tossed him into the room where the young man landed in a whimpering heap. He shut the door and turned around just as Miss Willory, Mrs. Keenes, and Mrs. Lubeck rounded the corner.

Miss Willory's shrewd eyes darted from him to Kate before she pasted a bright and entirely insincere smile on her face. "Mr. Hunter, I'd not realized you'd returned."

"Only just," he returned smoothly. "I met Lady Kate on my way to the parlor."

Mrs. Keenes gestured toward the music room. "I thought you'd left our company to play the piano, Lady Kate."

"I..." Kate swallowed audibly. "I've developed a sudden headache."

"You do look dreadfully dreadfully wan," Miss Willory commented. "Why-" wan," Miss Willory commented. "Why-"

"And where might you ladies be headed?" Hunter cut in.

"To view a painting in the east wing," Mrs. Keenes said. "Miss Willory insists it-"

"Do you hear that?" Mrs. Lubeck inquired suddenly. "It sounds rather like whimp-"

"Is it one of the family portraits you're off to study?" Hunter asked quickly, and just a trifle loudly. d.a.m.n that Potsbottom.

"It is is one of the portraits," Miss Willory chimed. "How wonderfully clever of you to guess." one of the portraits," Miss Willory chimed. "How wonderfully clever of you to guess."

It wasn't really. As far as he'd been able to tell, at least 80 percent of the artwork at every grand estate was comprised of family portraits. "Well, I'll not keep you from your quest any longer." He bowed low. "Ladies."

Clearly reluctant to leave, Miss Willory hesitated a moment before finally curtsying and departing with her companions.

Kate let out a long, shaky breath as the three women disappeared around the next corner. "Oh, dear. That could have ended very badly."

He took her arm in a light grasp and led her off in the opposite direction of Miss Willory's party. Whit would have to wait for his news.

Kate tugged a little on her arm. "What of Mr. Pots-bottom?"

"I'll send a footman for him later." When he was through taking care of Kate. "Where did you learn to defend yourself in that manner?"

"Evie taught me. She told me it might come in handy one day, but I never imagined..." She glanced behind them at the door to the music room. "Will he be all right?"

"You're worried worried about the bast-?" about the bast-?"

"I'm not worried, not exactly. It's only that I didn't expect my, er, defense to be quite so effective. Did I do him a lasting injury?"

"That's worried, Kate, and no, unfortunately, Mr. Potsbottom will be whole and hale by morning." Except for the headache Hunter hoped turned out to be positively brutal.

"Oh, good. That's good." She shrugged hesitantly when he gave her an incredulous look. "He's harmless, really. Just a bit too enthusiastic in his attentions."

"He was pawing at you," he growled.

"Yes, I know, but he's young and he's had too much to drink."

"I can't believe you're defending him. The two of you are of an age, and drink is not an excuse." An explanation, perhaps, for why the idiot might have tried to kiss her, but not an excuse for why he'd not given up the effort once Kate had made her disinterest clear.

"Of course it's not," Kate agreed, softly. "I only meant that he's generally a good-natured sort and that I don't think he intended to hurt me."

"Intentional or not, he was was hurting you." hurting you."

"Well, yes, that's why I applied my knee," she explained reasonably.

Not feeling particularly reasonable himself, he led her into the small, out-of-the-way sitting room, placed her in a chair, and went to a sideboard to pour her a gla.s.s of brandy.

She sat quietly as he brought it over and handed it to her. She sniffed it, took a tiny sip and immediately handed it back. "Ugh. I'll not drink it."

"It will settle your nerves."

"My nerves perhaps, but the rest of my system will likely revolt. I don't need..." She trailed off at his hard stare. "I'll take a gla.s.s of wine, or sherry, if you insist, but I'll not drink brandy. It's revolting."

"Fair enough."

He poured her a gla.s.s of sherry, which she sipped at gingerly.

"The whole thing, Kate."

Clearly lost to her own thoughts, she took another sip. "I can't believe Mr. Potsbottom did that," she said softly. "It isn't at all like him."

"You know him well?" he asked, pleased to see some of the color returning to her cheeks.

"I do, rather." She looked down at her drink, her long lashes shielding her eyes. "Or thought I did. We're of an age, as you said."

"What sort of man did you think he was?"

She gave a small shrug and looked up again. "He's not particularly clever, I'm afraid, but I always thought him to be rather sweet. He dances with wallflowers sometimes, and he's always polite to staff. I know he's exceedingly devoted to his grandmother and his young sisters. How could a man with sisters do something like that?" She shook her head as if to clear away the thought. "What could he possibly have been thinking? If Miss Willory and the others had come earlier-"

"You would have been compromised," he stated grimly. And he and Whit would be arguing over which of them got to shoot Potsbottom.

"I would have been ruined," she corrected. "I'd not marry a man who would press his suit on a woman, even if I'd not thought him capable of such boorishness before."

Hunter nodded in understanding. Now that the worst of his temper had settled and the threat to Kate minimized, he was beginning to understand something else as well. She was right-from what little he knew about young Mr. Potsbottom, the boy really didn't seem the sort to press his suit on a woman.

"If he's not the sort to do it," he mumbled, mostly to himself as he took a seat. "That begs the question as to why he did."

Kate seemed to think about that. Seemed Seemed being the key word, because what she said after a moment was, "Actually, begging the question indicates that a person has made an argument for their position on a matter by offering a point that is wholly dependent on their position having been correct to begin with. It's an a.s.sumptive, even circular sort of-" being the key word, because what she said after a moment was, "Actually, begging the question indicates that a person has made an argument for their position on a matter by offering a point that is wholly dependent on their position having been correct to begin with. It's an a.s.sumptive, even circular sort of-"

"Kate," he cut in gently. It truly was fascinating the way her mind worked.

"What? Oh." She set the sherry aside. "I don't think I need any more of that."

He felt his lips twitch. "Tell me what you were doing when Mr. Potsbottom arrived."

Her brow furrowed in thought. "I was going to the music room from the parlor, just as Mrs. Keenes said. I ran into him in the hall. Or he into me. I'm not certain which."

"Was he in the parlor when you left?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't recall, to be honest. He may have come in for a time with the other gentlemen."

"Did you speak with him earlier in the day?"

"No, Mirabelle and I were out for most of the day, and Mr. Potsbottom wasn't present when we returned to the house, nor at tea." She blew out a hard breath. "I simply have no idea what possessed him."

"We'll figure it out." But as he meant to see Mr. Potsbottom permanently removed from the house, his erratic behavior suddenly became a less pressing matter than the phrase, Mirabelle and I were out for most of the day. Mirabelle and I were out for most of the day.

"Where did you and Mirabelle go?"

"Oh, we went exploring." She sat up a little straighter in her chair, and pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, excitement suddenly lighting her eyes. "Did you know there are bluffs to the east of here? Great rocky ones that jut out into the water and-"

"Who told you that?"

"No one. Mirabelle and I discovered it. We went for a stroll."

"A stroll," he repeated, drawing out the last word.

"Yes."

"Down more than two miles of beach?"

"Oh." She slumped a little in her chair. "So you did know."

"Yes. What I don't don't know is what you were doing there." And why the devil Whit had allowed it. know is what you were doing there." And why the devil Whit had allowed it.

"I told you, Mirabelle and I were-"

"Going for a stroll, yes."

"More of a hike at that point, really. After a time, we followed the bluff rather than the beach." She smiled at him and shrugged. "Seemed safer, under the circ.u.mstances. But we did discover a small beach between two rocky outcroppings and a trail cut out of-"

"Tell me you had more sense than to go down that trail."

She blinked at his hard tone. "I had more sense than to go down that trail."

He opened his mouth, closed it. "Are you just repeating what I said because I told you to, or did you actually have-"

"I had more sense than to go down that trail," she said again, and with just enough emphasis to betray her irritation.

Good. Irritation didn't begin to cover what he was feeling. There was a sick knot of fear in his stomach, and another, tighter knot of it weighing on his chest. Something might have happened to her. She could have been accosted, abducted, fallen from the bluffs. The possibilities were endless, really. And horrifying. Unaccustomed, and uncomfortable, with being afraid for another, he retreated to the safety of cold anger. "But not, apparently, a sufficient amount of sense to keep from going down the coastline to begin with." Irritation didn't begin to cover what he was feeling. There was a sick knot of fear in his stomach, and another, tighter knot of it weighing on his chest. Something might have happened to her. She could have been accosted, abducted, fallen from the bluffs. The possibilities were endless, really. And horrifying. Unaccustomed, and uncomfortable, with being afraid for another, he retreated to the safety of cold anger. "But not, apparently, a sufficient amount of sense to keep from going down the coastline to begin with."

She tipped her chin up. "There was absolutely nothing wrong with me going-"

"What if someone had seen you?"

"Then someone would have seen two ladies taking a stroll along the beach," she retorted. "Hardly an uncommon sight."

"Had it been an actual stroll, yes. But two miles up to Smuggler's Beach while-"

"Is that really what it's called?" She gave a small snort. "One would think they'd come up with something a bit more discreet than that, or at least more creative."

"It's had the same name for..." He bit off an oath. It was nothing short of astounding how quickly she could steer a conversation off course. "Doesn't signify. It was reckless of you to go running about the coast looking for smugglers. For the remainder of the house party, you will stay in my sight every minute of the day that you are not in your room. Am I understood?"

Her mouth fell open. "That's preposterous. preposterous."

It was, probably, but he wasn't in a mood to argue with her, not while his stomach was in a knot. "That is an order." is an order."

Kate couldn't believe what she was hearing. Every minute of every day? Had the man come unhinged? The order wasn't just preposterous. It was impossible. What was she to do when it was time to leave her room, send a maid for him? What was she to do after dinner when the ladies went into the parlor and the gentlemen had their brandies? What was she to do if Lizzy or Mirabelle wanted a few private words with her when she was not in her room?

"You can't order order me to stay in your sight every minute. What-?" me to stay in your sight every minute. What-?"

"I can, and I have."

"But it's ridiculous," she countered on a bewildered laugh. "It's beyond ridiculous. I can't-"

"You can, and you shall shall, or I'll inform your brother why I'm here."

"What?" Likely she would have come up with something more intelligent to say if her mind hadn't been swamped in utter disbelief. She couldn't have possibly heard him correctly. Likely she would have come up with something more intelligent to say if her mind hadn't been swamped in utter disbelief. She couldn't have possibly heard him correctly. Surely Surely he wasn't issuing a threat. he wasn't issuing a threat.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, his face set in hard lines. "I'm sure he'd be interested to know his only sister is attending a house party in the midst of a smuggling investigation."

Apparently, he was was issuing a threat. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Neither I nor my brother is an idiot, Mr. Hunter. Whit knows of the smuggling operation." Probably, she amended silently. "And I know he knows of the smuggling operation." Again, probably. "Why else would he attend issuing a threat. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Neither I nor my brother is an idiot, Mr. Hunter. Whit knows of the smuggling operation." Probably, she amended silently. "And I know he knows of the smuggling operation." Again, probably. "Why else would he attend this this house party-" house party-"

"He doesn't know you know, nor that I told you what you know." He pressed his lips together and grumbled something akin to, "I can't believe I just said that," before continuing. "He doesn't know of your involvement."

That was very certainly true. If Whit had any idea she was helping-even in the most limited sense of the word-with the investigation, he'd send her packing back to Haldon.

Her hands fisted in her lap. "You would compromise your own mission just to spite me?"

"I do nothing to spite you, Kate," he replied in a patronizing tone. "My primary mission is to protect you. And if that requires I inform your brother that you, and his wife, were traipsing about the beach looking for smugglers-"

"Leave Mirabelle out of this," she cut in. "She did nothing more than go for a walk because I asked it of her. Furthermore, I wasn't looking for smugglers. I was just...looking." She tossed up her hands in frustration. "It was the middle of the day, for pity's sake. Even I know smugglers don't bring their shipments ash.o.r.e in broad daylight. And with Lord Brentworth's house full of guests two miles away? They'd have to be terrifically stupid to take such a risk. I can't imagine Lord Martin, for all that he is rather silly, investing his money in a ship full of fools. At the most, he'd-"

"You're rambling."

"What of it?" she snapped.

He merely lifted a brow at her sharp tone. Kate wondered how the movement of a single eyebrow could say so much, and then she wondered how what it said could be so irritating. irritating.

She didn't care to be looked at as if she were an excitable child. She wasn't in the habit of throwing fits of temper. On the other hand, she could probably manage a fairly respectable fit if he kept issuing asinine orders while he looked at her with that one irritating brow raised.

"I a.s.sume you felt the need to interrupt my rambling for a reason?" she ground out.